


as though light would flood the brain

by thewaterbeneathyou



Category: Free!
Genre: AU - The Lighthouse, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, M/M, Misunderstandings, Slow Burn, ambiguous time period, as i said misunderstandings all ends well and all ends rinharu, but it's resolved dw dw dw rinharu endgame, implied past makoharu
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:21:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29724786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewaterbeneathyou/pseuds/thewaterbeneathyou
Summary: "Sometimes life gives you a man that is more fish than man, and then you just have to live with that man."rin + haru + lighthouse.
Relationships: Matsuoka Rin/Nanase Haruka
Kudos: 5





	as though light would flood the brain

**Author's Note:**

> title is from "sail away" by the long faces. a wonderful song. a wonderful BAND  
> i really enjoy writing this AU and i am excited to share this fic!!!!!!!!!!! it's been maybe a year since i wrote for RH and in dire times i have returned to these boys. naturally, their comfort is as magnificent as ever. i know 2021 is to bring new things to wrap up free!, so what better time than now to celebrate all that it has given me? 
> 
> this is Very Dubiously a the lighthouse (2019) AU. in any case it is DEFFO heavily inspired by that movie which is AMAZING GO WATCH IT LOL
> 
> come talk to me on tumblr @evchen! i have a free! twitter (@clemjuus) too. i am also often around on the rinharu discord. shoutout to those guys <3
> 
> CW for vomiting, fainting, alcohol consumption.

It was small and unassuming - a splinter in the side of Rin’s land. This boat, that is -- one that Rin had to rub grit from his eyes for in order to confirm that this was, in fact, a human-carrying boat.

  
  


Rin watched from further up as his new passion project unloaded a sack, then - nope, just the one sack. Possibly all that dreadful boat would allow. That was good to know. The minimal man, the non-messer. He was raisin-sized, still, distantly rattling around the island’s jagged welcome mat as he looked for a way up through the rocks. It did not take him long to hack this, so Rin pushed himself off of the doorframe at long last. 

  
  


“Nanase?”

  
  


His bag dropped into view before he did. “Yes. Mr Matsuoka.”

  
  


Sooty hair, grubby face. Dull eyes -- yes, that gaze was appropriately weary from days at sea -- that might be beautiful if polished, and if elsewhere. Here, even Nanase’s skin, which looked that pudding sort of spongy, sort of sagged. It was unsurprising. Rin knew first hand how that treacherous mission could rot a guy.

  
  


“Drop that, already. ‘Rin’ will do. Six weeks of me, you’ve got, just as I’ve got that of you. Don’t make me want to chug tar more than I already do out here, Nanase.” 

  
  


“You’re really selling it to me. Can I start now?” 

  
  


Nanase’s face was eerily still. Rin liked this. He knew at once that he wanted to see this face curling like wave-crest, foam-ugly, grit all over.

  
  


“Not right away. Tonight is for drinking. Loosening up.” 

  
  


And that it was. Rin had prepared ale -- it was sharp, yet warm, and Nanase was visibly fuzzier: in the sense that Rin’s own drunkenness had compromised his vision, and also in the unfurling of his features. Of course, Nanase still had that air of being on high alert about him, but he would be stupid not to. In any case, Rin was vaguely comforted to see his companion let his guard down. These moments would soon become suitably rare. But, for now--

  
  


“What’s your deal then?” Nanase said, crossing his arms across his chest.

  
Woah. Rin was, again, fuzzy. And this was too much to bear. Even so:

  
  


“My  _ deal _ , Nanase,” Rin drawled, “is that it would be in your best interest to piss me off as little as possible over the next six weeks.”

  
  


There was no real bite to that. Nanase, wise enough, raised an eyebrow. Merely shuffled. He was flushed when the candle flickered in his favour. The sickly green was barely holding on to his face, now. He could have been handsome. 

  
  


“Quite the charmer. Should be a pleasure.”

  
  


If Rin could not bite, he was now slack-jawed. He leaned back into the bones of his chair, trying to chase away a pressing cramp in his spine. Nanase did not watch, choosing to scan the room instead - not awkwardly, mind. With purpose - this was how he moved, even whilst drunk. The poise was annoying, though only because Rin was already measuring it against the own roughness of his movements. Rin wondered what Nanase looked like draped over the side of a rock, hacking and spluttering. He wondered what a sick Nanase was like, sniffling, wiping drool from a curled lip and struggling to leave the floor. These visions were not wishes. Still -- they itched the same way a good dream does when it is hard to remember.

  
  


Mentally, he upgraded Nanase from  _ situation  _ to  _ housemate _ .

  
  
  
\--  
  
  


“We sleep here.” Rin said, sticking to a script. If he dare strayed… God. 

  
  


Nanase had pushed past him, just a moment ago, and it had felt like a lot. They had been drinking for a couple of hours. Chatting some, but drinking most. Nanase was twenty-three, Rin’s age, and offered strange reasons for being here. Rin couldn’t care for details at this depth of drunkenness. Still, he noted the overarching theme, and chuckled to himself:

  
  


“‘ _ I want to be close to the water _ ’. You’re so…” Rin was hiccuping and also laughing. He sounded like a mess.

  
  


“Justified. My boss is drunk on my first day of being here. I’d say it’s clear already who’s the most rational, Mr Matsuoka.” Nanase said, now standing between their two cots and crossing his arms, facing Rin. He had abandoned a small ritual of unpacking his sack for this statement. 

  
  


Rin only laughed more. At what exactly was unclear to him. He stepped into Nanase’s space. He had to be serious now. Nanase was being annoying. Very seriously, Rin pinched his brows together and drew his lips into a frown.

  
  


“I said drop that,” Rin said, almost whispering, “and ‘m not your boss. Don’t wanna be. Makes it so…” 

  
Rin felt his head do something, recalling jabbing grubby fingers at model globes as a child and watching them spin into a blur. He felt his stomach agree with his head. 

  
“Makes it so…” Rin tried again. His mouth was filled with jelly. He dropped, a hunted seabird, free-falling onto hardwood. The slats creaked in harmony with the unearthly sound his throat produced. He closed his eyes and opened them rapidly. He did this some more, until he eventually faced the sludgy pool with a sort of incredulous expression. 

  
  


Nanase, of course, was there, He crouched. His expression was strange. He seemed unfazed by Rin, who looked terrible and acted terribly. Rin had leaky everything - his eyes felt as if they had been lined with treacle, his nose ran damp tracks into his Cupid’s bow, his armpits were wet. He was also shaking quite violently. Little more than whiny breaths could fall from his mouth, which had once bragged so assuredly about how much alcohol could enter it.

  
  


“Complicated?”

  
  
  
\--  
  
  


The alarm clock woke them both up at six-thirty. Already, the air was thick. The smell was unpleasant -  _ chum  _ came to mind. It was part and parcel, really, of living out on the rock in the summer months, and the ancient lodgings beside the lighthouse offered no protection from it. If anything, they churned the air up even more. Old meant no insulation. Rin had no plans to do anything about this - at the end of the day, he was only out here for a few months of the year.

  
  


Right now, though, Rin was on the floor. The clean floor. Curled up, perhaps like a--

  
  


“Little cat,” Nanase said, appearing at the doorway. Rin lifted himself into an unsteady sitting position, pressing one hand to the ground for balance. 

  
  


“You’re like a little cat, Rin. You whine until you vomit,” Nanase moved further into the room, drumming the end of a mop into the ground for effect, “and you fall asleep in strange places.”

  
  


Rin tried to stand. He had to use the side of the bed for help. Nanase, as expected, stood and watched.

  
  


“I cleaned your little upset for you--”

  
  


“Don’t you dare,” Rin bit out. He was waking up. It was hard not to, when everything Nanase said was a challenge.

  
  


“ _ \--okay _ , okay,” Nanase started towards the door again, raising his hands in mock surrender, “but you should really pay me extra.”

  
  


For a moment, Rin let himself be dizzy. The air was uncompromising. He wondered if this lost hangover of Nanase’s would be something that he would find later. Whatever, it was infuriating: Nanase was humming, breezing around the kitchen below, and Rin was having a hard time pulling a new shirt over his arms. On his way to the bathroom the static of his vision smeared the cream walls with all sorts of colours. It hurt to look at just about everything. Spitting out his toothpaste made his skin buzz with remembered embarrassment. 

  
  


_ Ah.  _ Vomit. Ale. Ale vomit, new roommate, strange roommate. 

  
  


With immaculate timing, the day’s itinerary made itself known on the backs of Rin’s eyelids.

  
  


He looked into the mirror and screamed.

  
  
  
\--  
  
  


“How’s it looking, Nanase?” Rin called out over the rocks. He was steadily making his way over to Nanase, who was touching up the red paint on the sides of the Matsuoka fishing boat. 

  
  


It was actually looking… really good. Rin liked when this boat looked good, and it had not done so for a while. The onslaught of storms and his own reluctance to interact with it had taken a bit of a toll. 

  
  


“Nearly done on this side,” Nanase responded, not looking up.

  
  


Nanase was shirtless. That was just a detail. He was decently tanned, decently limber, and shirtless. And crouched over Rin’s boat. Again, these were just details. So Rin took a seat next to Nanase on the jetty, watching the paint roller. He had sobered up, so he could notice details - after all, as a part-time lighthouse keeper, noticing details was very important. Nanase’s hair was shaggy and style-less. It shined, and looked soft, but in an oil puddle sort of way. Or magma. There were definitely eyelashes, too. Long ones. Good for keeping dirt out of eyes too chlorine-blue to look right on a face. Practical lashes. If something got in the way of those eyes it would be a shame. For work.

  
  


“Rin?” Nanase was opening his mouth and turning his head. Rin was scanning, mapping.

  
  


_ A work dynamic for the ages.  _ “Nanase?”

  
  


“I’m done.” He was. The finished side of the boat looked awesome. Violent red, very Rin.

  
  


There was rustling from behind Rin -- Nanase was already shedding his chino shorts. His face was pure bliss. Unbothered. He stood, then, like a gull or a monolith, all bright and broad against the June sun in white briefs and quiet smugness. There was not a hair on his body. He was ridiculous. 

  
  


“I’m going to swim now. Break for lunch with me, Rin.”

  
  


_ … _

  
  
  


“... alright. We’re up with the light later, though, but it couldn’t hu--”

  
  


Nanase had already dived in. A perfect arch. If he had done this anywhere else on the island, he might have smashed his pretty head on a rock. Rin marched to the end of the jetty, barking concerns at the filmy blue even though Nanase was … long gone. Anything Rin would say would fall upon dead ears, anyway. Nonetheless, he slipped out of his work clothes and launched himself in, hacking at the water with rapid strokes until he reached his Nanase, who was floating on his back.

  
  
  


“Rin.” An acknowledgement.

  
  


The air was wide and intimate. Stretched thin, airy and close. “Do you have a name? A first name?”

  
  


“Maybe.”

  
  


Nanase opened his eyes. He was squinting, creasing up his face. “When you were drunk--”

  
  


“- _ -don’t _ \--”

  
  


“and you threw up and I had to clean you up. I told you then.”

  
  


“I was barely conscious!” This was sort of lost in garble since Rin was forgetting to tread water. He was quite pissed. 

  
  


“Don’t drown, Rin.”

  
  


Rin tried. “Not drowning. Name. Yours.” He was somewhat steady again.

  
  


“Fine. You’re annoying,” Nanase flipped over at this point, kicking himself towards Rin and facing him at long last, “Haruka.”

  
  


Rin took his hand. Long, wrinkled fingers. A loose grip.

  
  


“More of a ‘Haru’, if you want.”

  
  


Just slightly, barely, Haru smiled.  _ Bright.  _

  
  


Nice.

  
  
  
\--  
  
  


They had stayed in the sea for a while. It was okay to, for once, Rin thought. Things had been particularly slow these past few years, with pressing tasks generally arising as petty maintenance. He was surprised that Haru had even taken up his offer, which had been posted in a newspaper back in winter:  _ HOUSEMATE / ASSISTANT LIGHTHOUSE KEEPER POST.  _ That being said, the gobsmacked feeling was fading fairly quickly. Haru was weird: that wave had smacked him at first, then slipped back into the tide, leaving only something like fond, sweaty dampness. Sometimes life gives you a man that is more fish than man, and you just have to live with that man. 

  
  


Even if he can’t do anything useful. “Slowly, Haru. Head up.”

  
  


This was the Light Room. Windowed all around, and circular, with a spectacular centerpiece: the light itself, no less. It was gold and polished, enough to startle. Rin, intimately familiar with the place, still found himself mesmerised when he would enter once again after some time away, no matter how many times he had greeted the light. It was always… something. The light’s pull evaded definition. It just pulled.

  
  


Anyway. Without a doubt -- this room was cramped, no matter how much of an illusion those panoramic windows gave. Though, not even a lack of space could excuse Rin’s closeness: it was just ten PM, and the drunkenness was only slight, the air wobbly. Alas, duty called: the night, though generally still, would often be pierced by the hubbub of a passing yacht heading for the mainland. This tiny interval of summer gave purpose to the tower, which was otherwise obsolete. What it did not do was justify how Rin turned his nose into Haru’s neck, just behind his ear, now reaching towards his wrists from behind to steady them. Steady them. That was all this was: an exercise in self-preservation. And lighthouse preservation.

  
  


Haru had little wrists. Rin chased some whimsical urge to seek a pulse on each, pressing with two fingers on each arm.

  
  


“Do I move it now?” Haru said very quietly. His skin shone in the dark.  _ Opalescent _ , Rin thought, feeling fairytale levels of mystified. Was his Haru the rightful prince of this tower? Inebriated, he felt that way. He felt a lot of ways, to be fair. Many of them were ridiculous.

  
  


He felt Haru’s arms quiver slightly where they were extended to grip the metal handlebars that manually moved the light from side to side. They only needed a nudge, a touch then they would move on their own for the remainder of the night. Since Haru was here, that push was his. Rin shuffled closer, lifting his head, giddy. This part always left him strangely drained - after all, it was this proximity to the light that had made him a heavy drinker during his lighthouse stays in the first place. The mechanism was strange, though anyone would argue that this is just due to its mechanism being unconventional and complicated. Maybe archaic, though it was hard to say. 

  
  


“Yeah. Left first…”

  
  


Rin didn’t take his hands away, Haru grunted, showing only slight resistance to the weight of the bars. If he was affected by something, it would be that light. So--

  
  


“--bright…” Haru half-gasped, beginning to move the handlebars back round to the right. His hair was slick and shiny, making little strips over his eyes. Somehow, he lost his footing and stumbled out of a flip flop; Rin took his hands away from Haru’s wrists, pressing them firmly to his stomach.

  
  


“Is this alright?” Rin said, unable to take his eyes off of Haru. Dishevelled.

  
  


“Yes, Rin, it’s--”

  
  


The light clicked. This sound was metallic and final. Its suddenness caused Haru to drop his hands. Dangerously quickly, they joined Rin’s where they were clasped over his stomach. A sick, hot detour. The two men stood silently, Haru breathing fast, eyes squeezed shut, shoulders tight. Now, the light moved alone, humming in that way fluorescent lights so often did. Except it felt strange: the machinery was too ornate and old, the movements too fluid to be making such a sound. A sort of consciousness guided the light - there was the odd that it would know a boat’s direction of travel before it even appeared on the horizon.

  
  
  


“There she goes,” Rin whispered, respecting the light, “see, Haru. How’s that for a sight?”

  
  


Haru gulped, and Rin had felt it because his nose was nuzzled into his neck again. Salt and sweat -  _ salty sweat _ ? Whatever. It was nice. Not just _ finally human contact _ nice, but  _ nice _ in a new way that was difficult to place. Haru was …  _ difficult _ .... and they were undoubtedly incompatible outside of a work dynamic. At least they had created  _ that. _ This touching was all, of course, investigatory work -- Rin was assessing, and masterfully. The lighthouse would surely have an exquisite run with these two manning it.

  
  


“It’s…”

  
  


“Romantic, right?” Rin had laughed. That was a joke, beneath night’s blanket. No romance.

  
  


Haru turned round, a stumbled pivot. His hands found Rin’s hips, bare beneath an open shirt. His head wavered, his knees buckled. Rin inhaled, wasting no time in placing his hands on Haru’s back. Haru looked up at him. Rin looked down at him. Haru;s mouth was open: chapped sea lips, red from licking them nervously. Noted. Something in the room snapped; the curved windows peeled back, letting the black night in to finally gnaw. Light was everywhere. It  _ felt  _ light everywhere. Rin whimpered. 

  
  


Haru took a step forward, lifted glazed eyes, and conked out.

  
  


Right.

  
  
  
\--  
  
  


“Rin. Rin. Rin. Rin.”

  
  


Kneeling beside his cot was none other than… Haruka. It was - Rin craned his heavy, heavy neck to see the alarm clock - three A.M. And yet…

  
  


Haru continued poking Rin in the chest. “Can’t sleep. Too hot. Fix it.”

  
  


Rin sat up, kissing his teeth and smacking a palm to his temple. “Haru, were you not unconscious earlier tonight? For fuck’s sake, get some rest--”

  
  


“Fix your house. Hot house.” He jabbed, hard. In the hip this time, since chest was now out of reach.

  
  


“Cut that out, Haru. I’m going back to sleep.”

  
  


Clearly, the only possible course of action for Haru was to climb on to the mattress. Rin covered his face with both hands now, and openly growled.

  
  


“I’ll sleep here then, Rin. Then you’ll understand.”

  
  


Rin stood up, rattling the room as he backed against the wall. He braced his hands on the bed frame.

  
  


_ Wh…  _ “Understand what? Understand. What? That you’re giddy and seasick? That can’t hold a drink? Because that much is  _ pretty clear _ !”   
  


Rin steeled himself. A little harsh, maybe. Either way, all Haru was doing was making himself comfortable in the middle of the bed. Curled up.

  
  


“Haru, look,” Rin slid down the wall, now, sitting once again, “I’m dead hot, too. We’re all dead hot.”

  
  


Haru watched intently as Rin’s head lolled back against the wooden bedframe, ragdoll-like. Rin gripped the bedsheets once or twice, timing the relaxing of his fingers with his exhales. Having done this, he lifted his head up to look at Haru, who had since flipped on to his stomach to face him.

  
  


“Spite’s a cheap trick, Nanase. If you’re  _ that  _ hot, sleep outside, water boy. As if you’d mind that, anyway...”

  
  


With astounding speed, Haru reached out to grip Rin’s ankle.

  
  


“No. I want to sleep here, Rin. So we’re … both hot.”

  
  


There was that urge to scream again. This time, Rin had to swallow it. Despite there being no real reason to _not_ scream (remote island perks), it was the soft conviction of Haru's voice that kept the urge as just that: an urge.

  
  


“...you’re not asking me to leave. In that case, goodnight, Mr. Matsuoka.”

  
  


In lieu of a compromise, Haru stopped gripping Rin’s ankle and politely settled at the other end of the bed, facing entirely away from Rin. Rin kicked out his legs and sank fully into his pillow. Miles across the room, there was an empty cot. This room had had two beds for years, even before Rin had intended to share the place with anyone. It was likely a result of previous family members using it. He did not know their names. There was a lot he did not know, but the decor of this room was telling enough: simple, modest, beige, forgettable. Strange, given the distinctive location and the _zero_ probability of anyone outside of the Matsuoka family tree paying any real attention to the place. It was early days, of course, however Rin had decided something: he liked how Haru coloured this room. His presence was potent, his words meaningful, his steps purposeful. Even if that was unintentional, the effect remained. Haru fit here. _With Rin_ \-- Rin would not indulge that train of thought.

  
  


Every now and then, the room would fill with white light. For that night, Rin did not pull the curtains. No -- he wanted to stay awake and watch its passing through. Something about Haru made him want to tap into this feeling, this unsteadiness, that he associated so heavily with the light. If there was something close to compare it with, it was that feeling of being ranted at in a language he was unable to speak. Rin, ever the well-travelled young man, cringed. That was close, sure, but perhaps it was closer to … hearing something he was  _ supposed _ to understand. A forgotten thing, now made known by its gaps, its eerie censorships. Somehow, that hurt more.

  
  


Inevitably, Rin watched Haruka. From his position, he did not see his form - for someone who had complained so ardently of overheating, he was quite neatly wrapped in quilt. Still, Rin watched Haruka -- the scenes of the past couple of days strung themselves across his eyelids, as if bits of evidence he was supposed to connect. Not that he would. For now, Rin would let himself watch, a keeper through and through. 

  
  


If the light hit something, it hit something. Yes -- Rin would let nature take its course. 


End file.
